


What Mary And Joseph Did

by Dirty_Corza



Series: Come Out Ahead [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the heart and head can't agree on how to feel. So you give in to the base desires, as much as they disgust you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Mary And Joseph Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valeria2067](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/gifts).



When they'd taken John to a cell, they hadn't tied him down again. They'd left him naked in a room with nothing but a cot and a door. No window, no table, not even a security camera, at least not that he could find.

He let out a soft, mirthless laugh. They weren't worried about him doing something like strangling himself with the bedsheets, or smothering himself with the pillow. The room was warm enough for him to sit comfortably without clothing, at least. He was almost grateful for that. It was hard to be grateful for anything, though, when remembering the earlier events. A set up, for him to be captured. Being raped by his- by his best friend. He swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. 

If it had been as simple as that, he wouldn't be sitting here conflicted. If it had been as simple as that, he wouldn't have walked mutely with the guards, letting himself be lead to this cell without a fight. But Sherlock had cried. “I'm sorry,” John was sure those were the words Sherlock hadn't dared to say, and those were the words that broke him. 

Perhaps it was madness, or the only thing keeping him sane, but he clung to the hope that Sherlock had meant it. That the rest of it was all an act and those tears, those unspoken words, were real. He sat on the bed, hands in fists resting on his thighs. There was nothing to do now but wait.

The wait lasted two days. Two days filled with men occasionally coming in to leave behind trays with food and water, and escort him to the bathroom. The trips to the bathroom brought back his bonds, hand cuffs, this time, simple restraints that weren't removed even for his brief time in the shower. Humiliation that, he supposed, should have made him angry, should have made him fight back. But without seeing Sherlock, all he felt was tired. Tired of playing games he didn't know the rules of, tired of men ogling him and bland meals.

He knew the wait was over when Sherlock walked in with two things, a video camera and a bottle of lube. His face was unreadable as he set up the camera on the side table, making sure it had a clear view of the bed. “Well, John, shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

John paused a moment before replying, knowing this, what he said right now, could mean the difference between life and death, or at the very least, the line between sanity and more therapy once -if- he got out of this place. “That depends, Sherlock.”

“Depends? On what, John?” Sherlock finally turned to face him, face betraying the emotions he hadn't allowed his voice to show. There was worry there, care, and regret. That was what his eyes held most of, regret.

“On which way involves me fucking you and not the other way around.”

John saw the shock on Sherlock's face, the hesitation there. Chances were, that wasn't supposed to be an option. Judging from their last encounter, it wasn't likely. 

“Really, John, it's a question of you being tied down or not, not whether you top or bottom, as it were.” How Sherlock's voice managed to stay s calm and collected, John didn't know, but he did know, if Sherlock was going to be fucking him, and on video no less, he didn't want to be putting on a show.

He turned to lay down on the bed, hands stretched above his head. “Wouldn't want to risk marking your pretty cheekbones in the middle of it all, now would I?” He couldn't keep the sentiment from his voice, the resignation to his fate, the submissiveness to Sherlock. All it had taken was a glimpse of regret in those pale eyes and he was willing too let his body be used, abused, anything. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the blinking light on the camera, waiting for Sherlock to make his move.

“You really are an idiot.” he hears whispered in his ear, and Sherlock is there, right there, lips brushing his cheek before he pulls away. There was a click, and one of the handcuffs was undone, and just as quickly it was reattached, wrapping around the bedpost, and John saw the regret go deeper in Sherlock's eyes now. He isn't quite sure which option he picked. The lube was picked up as Sherlock unfastened his trousers, and John could see him there, not even half hard and that was the moment he knew, without a Shadow of a doubt that Sherlock wanted to do this no more than he did. If anything, Sherlock wanted to go through with this less than he did.

“Sherlock, I-”

\- - -

John's hands were wrapped around Sherlock's neck, no pressure as of yet, but there was fury in John's eyes, blurred by tears before they streamed down his face.

“Don't you dare. Never, fucking never again, do you hear me?” The pain in his voice was raw, echoing the pain of the last few hours. Their positions were reversed now, John straddling Sherlock's hips as he half throttled the man. The sounds of gunfire echoed around them, the walls too thin to block out the sounds of the raid on the building.

“John.” Sherlock gasped out, and John pressed just a little bit harder for a moment, relishing the rasp of Sherlock trying to get enough air. 

“No, Sherlock, you listen and you listen good. I don't care if they would have killed me, or if they would have raped me, it wasn't them it was you. My best friend. And you are never, ever fucking going to put me in this position again, do you hear?” His grip was slipping, but that was good. Here, pinning Sherlock to the sheets, watching him tug at the cuffs on his wrists, the guilty pleasure of seeing all that pale flesh laid out before him, he didn't want to kill the man. He wasn't even sure he wanted to teach him a lesson. He just needed to feel the throat in his hands, needed to hear Sherlock's gasps as he played along with the game, giving John everything he wanted.

“I'm sorry, John. So sorry. I just-” Sherlock's words petered off as he gave half a sob, turning his face away from John's gaze.

“Why, Sherlock, why?” John's hands were closer to Sherlock's shoulders than his neck when he shook them, the pleading in his voice ending in his own half-sob.

“I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching you while I had to watch, I couldn't bear the thought of them using you when I could be gentle, could make it as painless-”

John cut his words off with fingers pressed almost firmly over Sherlock's lips. “It wasn't painless, seeing you do things you didn't want to, as I begged you not to, Sherlock. Do you get that? None of it could be painless.”

Sherlock turned his head, shaking John's fingers free. “I just didn't want to see you broken. Not abused like that by those pigs. They said if I did what they said, they wouldn't touch you, if I made you- made you mine... They bargained with your body like it were nothing more than a toy to be used and I couldn't let that happen.”

John let himself collapse, falling to lay across Sherlock's chest, face pressed close to Sherlock's. “What are we doing lying here, Sherlock? What are we doing with you tied to a bed and me just sitting on your chest?”

Sherlock gave a small smile in response, turning to look at John, faces centimeters apart. “We're doing what we always do, I hope. With you showing me the important bits of human interaction, and me taking all of your lessons to heart?”

John's lips twitched up into a small smile of his own. “We won't be able to do anything like- like this for a while. Is that okay?”

Sherlock gave a huff of laughter. “You could tell me I was never allowed to touch you again, and I'd understand that. Hell, you could tell me you were going to press charges and I'd support you all the way, John.”

John's lips were soft against his cheek. “I meant what I said. You're never to do it like this again. Ask first if it's okay. Sometimes it might be, sometimes it won't be. But the second anyone ever uses someone's body against you like this again, you press the panic button and let Mycroft save your ass. The case be damned, some things just shouldn't be done.”

Sherlock nodded, swallowing thickly, and John could feel it against the palm of his hand still resting against Sherlock's throat. “Yes, John.”


End file.
